


Muse

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Worship, Crushes, Cunnilingus, F/M, Lingerie, Photography, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, men eating pussy, realistic body types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: Colin is a professional photographer. Parvati needs her photo taken.





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few years ago for katmarajade's prompts: workplace romances, realistic body types.  
> Thank you Goldentruth813 for looking this over!

He had never had this much trouble holding the camera steady when shooting anyone before. Colin had been taking pictures for as long as he could remember. It was his _thing_. Everyone knew he took the best pictures; every celebrity in the wizarding world came to his studio for the most glamorous shots. 

But he had never felt so unprofessional. 

“Is this good?” Parvati asked. She sat on a high stool in front of a luxurious black velvet backdrop, arching her back until her small, pert breasts stood out. The lace shelf bra barely covered her nipples. 

Colin swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

Parvati smiled. “Have you ever done a lingerie shoot before?”

“Yes.” He had done loads of these types of shoots, seen loads of bony models half naked in frilly bras and knickers, giggling and posing and blowing pouty kisses at his camera. But none of them had made his breath stop in his throat—or his trousers tighten so painfully—as Parvati did sitting atop his stool in a lacy bra and knickers. 

Parvati wasn’t a model, and perhaps that was the difference. She did do the modeling, but she wasn’t a model; her boutique just opened that year and she designed all the garments herself. She wanted to be the face of her business. And the body. 

And Colin liked her body, especially her curves. 

He looked into the camera and worked the lens, blurring the background around her and bring Parvati into sharper focus. 

<<>>

_Stay professional, stay professional, you utter burk, stay professional._

It was his mantra the morning before their second shoot. The entire week since the first one had passed in a tedious blur of work and counting the days until he’d see her again. He both craved and dreaded it, for it would be both sweet relief and terrible torture. Every night he thought about her and let his hand stray further south, reliving their shoots in his head like a film reel. He imagined pulling down her bra and exposing her tiny tits and cupping them in his hands. 

<<>>

“This one’s new,” she said, turning around and showing him her back side. The lacy pink knickers barely covered her arse.

Colin’s blood all rushed south, leaving him lightheaded and overheated. 

Her small waist flared out at her love handles and rolled into sensuous, full hips and a rather plump behind. Colin wanted to do dirty, dirty things to that behind. His cock reacted very positively to the size of it, all that _body_ just waiting to be gripped and grabbed and manhandled. He wondered if Parvati could take a good manhandling. 

Colin was the kind of bloke who wanted something substantial in his hands. He wanted a bit of a rounded tummy and thighs that rubbed together and a big fucking arse… Fuck, he wanted her so much. There was so much he would do to her with his hands, with his lips, and with his hard cock.

“You like them?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder. 

Colin let out an unsteady laugh. “I don’t know anything about fashion, I just take the pictures.”

<<>>

He was running late—on a Monday, of all the miserable days—when he bumped into her again. Quite literally. 

“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, Parvati!” He hadn’t expected to see her today so he wasn’t ready; he looked like shit, hadn’t even combed his hair before rushing out the door. His hand reached up and distractedly ran through his fringe. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You must be in a real hurry.”

“Have to meet a new client,” he said, thinking he might like her even better in clothes. There was something pretty about her black hair flowing around her face and the yellow scarf billowing around her neck; she was a ray of the sun on the cloudiest day. She wore autumn-thickness robes and looked as stylish as usual. He would like to take her picture like this, rosy-cheeked and smiling. 

“Well I won’t keep you, then,” she said, and made to walk around him. “It was nice bumping into you.” She giggled. 

“Wait—”

“Yes?”

He licked his lips, his mind blank when he desperately needed words. All he knew was he didn’t want her to go. “I’m free at noon for lunch. I’ll likely be around here, in Diagon. Will you… Are you… That is…?”

Parvati grinned. “I’ll be at my shop if you want to come by then and ask me to lunch properly. It’s right down the street there.” 

He watched her walk that way, his heart _thump-thumping_.

<<>>

He was late for the second time that day. In his haste, he Apparated basically on top of a woman just walking down the street. Almost gave the poor woman a heart attack. Just barely escaped before she hexed his ears off his head. 

He only hoped Parvati didn’t have worse in store for him. 

“I couldn’t get away,” he explained as soon as he ran through the door of her shop, breathing hard. “The client was horrible, kept making me retake the shots until he was happy with them. I’m truly sorry, Parvati. I hope I can make it up to you.”

“I don’t know,” Parvati said, looking away as she hung a satin camisole on a rack with countless others. “I don’t really like being stood up.”

“Please,” he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being, “let me make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you usually take your clients to dinner?”

“Occasionally.” He gathered his courage and stepped forward. “But I don’t want to take you as a client.”

Her pursed lips relaxed into a hint of a smile. 

<<>>

Dinner turned into drinks— martinis and jazzy music in a smoky little hide-away bar. She told him she remembered him from school and his cheeks flushed hotly and he tried to hide his grin. He told her his father had given him his first camera, taught him how to use it, how to compose a shot, how to see the world through a lens. He still had that first camera in his studio; he would keep it forever. 

She wanted to see it. 

He took her there, fiddling with the keys in the lock, giggling with her as she held onto his arm and whispered as though they were teenagers again and returning late from curfew. 

And it was very late. 

As soon as they got in, Parvati plopped down on the sofa with one leg bent at the knee. Her skirt balled up at her hips. She stared at him with that sly hint of a smirk, fully aware she was showing him her knickers. Fully aware he was looking at them. 

She spread her thighs a bit further. 

Her panties were sheer. 

“Would you take my picture, Colin?”

Colin licked his bottom lip, trying to make his brain remember what words were. “Soon,” was all he could say. “Soon.”

He would take her picture, over and over again. He would take her picture as they laid in bed together and regained their breaths and cooled off from fucking—lazily, taking his time with the frame. Capturing her every curve. But first…

First he had to walk over to her and push her legs apart. He had to get on his knees, kiss her inner thigh, pull the sheer panties away and bury his face in her. Inhale her scent and worship her with his tongue until she squirmed and sighed. 

First, he had to pull down the straps of her dress until her breasts popped out. First he had to fuck her senseless, the way he fantasized so many times. 

And that’s exactly what he did. 


End file.
